Once Forbidden

by TERRI BRISBIN

  She had called him by name, she must remember him.

  "Aye, Robert, I ken who ye are. Ye hae truly grown to be the son of yer faither." The woman's eyes seem to glow as she spoke. He shook his head at that crazy thought. Could she know the truth?

  "He must favor his mother then, Moira, for truly I see none of Dougal in him at all."

  He was so intent on Moira's words and gaze that he'd forgotten about the witness to their exchange. Anice sat up straighter now, looking back and forth, from him to Moira.

  "I've been told that my eyes are her eyes. No' the color, but the shape of them." Their color, he knew, was a trait passed among many in the clan and even called MacKendimen blue. Their dyers and weavers were even able to duplicate it into one of the patterns they wove into the thick woolen tartans.

  "I wouldn't know, she passed away long before I arrived here. And, Moira, you are too young to have known his mother."

  "Aye, Anice, ye hae the right of it. None of us kenned his maither, but we all ken his faither." Robert's eyes narrowed as he watched Moira's guileless expression. Were her words a deliberate attempt to expose his true parentage? If her visions were stronger than her mother's, she knew the truth already. Mayhap this was her way of letting him know that she shared his secret?

  "Let me see to the lass as we talk, Robert." Moira left Anice's side and went to the long table at the other side of the room.

  Robert glanced around at the dark interior of the cottage. A drying rack hung low over the table; herbs and plants of different colors and sizes were tied to it in bunches. Jars, jugs, and containers of all sizes filled shelves on the wall next to the table. Moira stood before her supplies, choosing several from the lowest shelf. Pouring, measuring, and stirring, he watched as the healer brewed a potion for Anice.

  Moira approached the fire and, wrapping her hand in the edge of her plaid skirt, she drew a large pot from over the flame. Ladling a small amount of heated water into the cup she held, Moira stirred the ingredients and held the brew out to Anice.

  "Sip this slowly, but drink it all down, Anice."

  "You are using that voice again, Moira."

  "Aye, but will it work on ye now that ye ken it?"

  "Aye, it will. For now."

  Robert watched the exchange between the two women. He knew what Anice meant by "the voice." He remembered Moira as a lass of ten and two years using the voice to give orders to men many times older than herself.

  "Robert, will ye help me by removing her boots?" Moira pointed at Anice's feet as she walked back to the worktable, carrying the pot of water with her. He knelt in front of Anice, pausing as he saw her stiffen at his approach.

  "May I, my... Anice?" He would never get accustomed to calling her by her given name. Too many years of too many "my lady's" went before her strange request not to call her by it.

  Robert looked at her face and waited for a response. An instant of fear flashed through the widened green eyes and was gone quickly, making him doubt that he had truly seen it. Then, realization struck him.

  She feared being touched.

  His thoughts went back to each of their meetings. Each time he observed her, she held herself separate and apart, never allowing others close. She would not allow him to help her climb the stairs and when he took her arm in his room to stop her from leaving, she tightened. She stiffened when he tried to assist her in walking the path here.

  Was it just his touch, as a stranger, as a man beneath her station, that caused the fear in her eyes? No. She withdrew from everyone but her maid and Moira, even maintaining a distance from Struan. Another clue to the riddle of the Lady Anice MacNab, unbeknownst to her, his sister-by-marriage.

  "Go ahead, Robert," Anice said in a quiet voice. He lifted one foot and leaned it on his thigh, unlacing the straps that held the boot in place. After loosening it, he pulled it from her foot and placed it near the hearth to dry. Robert did the same with the other.

  "Here now, Robert." Moira held out a mug to him. "Drink this, it will warm ye."

  He stood, took the mug, and stepped away to give Moira room near Anice. Walking around the room slowly, he observed the two from a distance. Moira drew off one stocking and exposed a swollen foot, ankle, and lower leg to his view.

  Puir lass, as Ada would say. She was not handling the carrying of the babe well at all. Moira scooped a small amount of ointment from a jar next to her and applied it to Anice's foot and leg, rubbing it in slowly. He watched as Anice's head dropped back against the chair and her eyes closed. The tension in her body lessened with each stroke of Moira's knowing hands.

  In a voice too soft for him to hear, Moira plied Anice with questions and listened to the responses. She smiled at several things Anice said as she continued her massage. Finally, the room grew very quiet and Moira wiped her hands on her apron and lifted Anice's legs gently off her lap. Moira stepped away from her seat and propped Anice's feet up on the cushion. Signaling him with a finger to her lips, Moira approached Robert, and he waited for her to come near.

  "Does this happen much?" he whispered as he gestured towards the sleeping woman.

  "Nay. 'Tis only recently that I could get her to come here."

  "Why?" Robert asked. It made no sense for Anice to avoid the person who could offer her the most comfort for her physical ailments.

  Moira took her time in answering, moving to the other side of her table and cleaning up some of the recently used ingredients first.

  "She stays close to the keep."

  "Ah, her duties keep her there." Robert could understand how busy Anice would be in her duties as steward since Dougal's illness.

  "Nay, her fear keeps her there."

  "Fear? Fear of what? Or should I ask of whom?" Robert waited to hear who would dare threaten the Lady Anice in a way that kept her a prisoner in the keep.

  "Robert, I can say no more. 'Tis Anice's story to tell if she wishes ye to ken." Those were almost exactly Struan's words, too. He would not pry any further now, but somehow he would find out the truth of this.

  "Can ye tell me of Dougal's condition?" His irritation forced sarcasm into his tone as he asked.

  "Of course I can speak of Dougal." Moira gave him a patronizing smile that matched her tone of voice. "He is a man standing at death's door and waiting for it to open. He doesna have much time left on this earth."

  "Does he suffer as he is?" Robert remembered the sunken face and body of the man on the bed.

  "Nay. I give him a broth that eases pain. He does try to speak occasionally, but spends most of his time drifting between consciousness and sleep."

  He thought of other questions, but the tightness in his throat trapped any more words. Robert nodded at the healer.

  She placed her hand over his. "Make yer peace with him now, Robert. Dinna waste time and hold back things which must be said between ye."

  "But, Moira, he is atween sleep and unconsciousness. How will he hear my words?" His voice was barely a whisper even now.

  "He will hear with his heart, Robert, no' his ears. Fear no', yer words will be heard."

  He nodded again and she moved away, busying herself with chores. Moira was right—'twas time to speak to Dougal of things that had passed between them. Even if Dougal couldn't hear them, the speaking of the words might lift his own burden.

  Robert blinked several times to clear his hazy eyes and looked at Anice's still and sleeping form. It was then he noticed that the furrow between her eyebrows had eased. Her face looked even younger without the mark of worry upon it. Somehow, it didn't seem fair to him that a lass of but ten years and seven should wear such a serious frown. Her responsibilities wore heavy on her slight shoulders.

  Well, his presence would lift some of the weight she carried and give her the time and strength to deal with the difficulties of her carrying. He would make his peace with Dougal and uphold his bargain with Struan until she birthed the bairn. Then, commitments fulfilled and a new steward in place, he would return and take his place of respe
ct in Dunbarton with the MacKillops.

  Anice stirred, her eyes blinked open, and she looked in confusion at her surroundings and at him. Based on what he now believed about her, Robert fought the urge to go to her, allowing her time to clear her thoughts.

  "Och, ye are awake already, lass?"

  "Would seem so, Moira. 'Twas not long enough for you and Robert to catch up on your gossip?"

  Robert smiled at Anice. "Oh, aye. 'Twas time enough to reacquaint ourselves. Are ye ready to go back?"

  He watched as she shifted in the chair and slid her feet to the floor. Before her bare feet could touch the packed-dirt floor and without thinking of his newfound understanding, he sat in front of her and lifted them back up. Anice gazed at him—wide-eyed and mouth-opened.

  "All of Moira's hard work will be for naught," he started to say. Then he felt the shiver move through her body and into his hands.

  He glanced at Moira for guidance but she looked away, leaving the problem, literally, in his hands. Anice began to pull her feet from his grasp. Robert tightened his grip, not allowing her to move.

  "Here now, Anice. If you twist like that ye will end up on yer arse on the floor. Stop it now."

  He immediately regretted his raised voice but he feared she would turn topsy-turvy on the not-so-sturdy-looking chair. Without letting go of her feet, he repositioned them on the other bench and stepped back. Then he released his grasp.

  "Moira, I think ye should help Anice with her stockings and boots." A smart man knew when to remove himself from a bad situation.

  Moira approached and he moved towards the door to retrieve his cloak. Within a few moments, Moira replaced Anice's stockings and slid the boots on, lacing and tying them snugly against the cold and moisture. He could not understand the feeling of regret he felt at her refusal of his touch. Robert knew for certain that it was not his touch alone that bothered her but the knowing of it did not ease the strange ache that settled in his chest.

  Anice stood and straightened her skirts and replaced her heavy cloak on her shoulders. Moira whispered to her the entire time, sometimes more insistently than others. Robert waited for Anice to draw nigh before opening the door. He held out his arm to support her steps and waited for her to place her arm on his. After another brief but still noticeable hesitation, she did.

  They had taken but a few steps down the path from the cottage when Moira called him back. He hastened to her, leaving Anice at the gate.

  "Robert, I have need of a favor from ye." She pitched her voice low but continued to smile at Anice as she spoke.

  "Anything I can do for ye, I will, Moira. Ye hae but to ask." Part of being steward was solving problems, big and small. That was one of many talents he'd developed in his years at Dunbarton.

  "Once there is a break, a true break in the weather, summon yer companion from Dunbarton."

  Images of flowing blond curls and enticing feminine curves flashed before his eyes. He could feel the heat enter his cheeks and other parts of his body as memories of his times with Helena entered his thoughts.

  "Companion, Moira? Of whom do ye speak?"

  "No' the one who warmed yer bed, man, the one who haes the healing touch."

  "Ada? Summon Ada here?" How did she know of both Helena and Ada?

  "Aye, the old one. Her skills will be of need to ye in the spring. Bring her as soon as ye can."

  "Moira, why?" Her request was strange since her skills far surpassed anything Ada could do. And certainly no one in Dunnedin would request another healer when Moira was among them.

  "I canna say for now. Just do it, Robert." Moira motioned him back to Anice. "Tell the lass I want to see her back in two days." She waved two fingers at Anice. "'Two, no more."

  Anice was still shaking her head at Moira when he reached her at the gate. Their walk back to the keep was brisk and quiet. Once inside the stone building, Anice was met by her maid and escorted up the stairs, leaving Robert to watch her escape. He was no closer to understanding Anice now than when he rode in through the gates. He shook his head and realized that the same was true about most men and most women.

  Chapter 9

  "Come in, Anice."

  Robert stood and motioned her into the small room. It seemed much more filled with him in it. In spite of his presence in the keep and around the village over the last weeks, she was not comfortable having him this close to her. Pounding within her chest, her heart beat a bit faster and harder with every moment this close to him. As if he sensed her unease, he moved back away from the table and turned the chair for her, motioning to her to sit on it. And, if she'd learned nothing in his first weeks here, she had learned how stubborn he could be. She sat in the proffered seat.

  This room had been her safe haven. She'd retreated here many days when the fear and depression almost overwhelmed her. There was safety in closing and locking the door, and losing herself in the columns of words and numbers, in the books that recorded the clan's history and day-to-day supplies and plans. By forcing her mind to focus on the numbers and letters she wrote, she also regained control over her thoughts and over her life.

  Now, this intruder took control. Nay, not intruder. Visitor. She glanced over at him as he pulled a small bench from under the table and sat next to her, moving closer so that he could look over her shoulder. Wiping her damp palms on her skirt, she smoothed it over the growing swell of her belly and took a deep breath.

  "Have you found something wrong, Robert? Your message sounded urgent."

  "Nay, Anice. As I told ye the first time we reviewed these accounts, the books are as they should be. I asked ye here to beg a favor of ye."

  This was not what she'd expected to hear from him. Questions about her methods of record-keeping, certainly, but begging a boon from her, nay, not that.

  "What do you need from me?"

  "Well, I have looked over yer work in keeping the clan and keep's records and I am impressed with yer thoroughness." She felt the heat rise in her cheeks, that old pride and satisfaction at a task well done forced her to sit up straighter. "Ye," he continued, "are much better at keeping the books than I am. And..."

  "And?" She turned to face him. She dared not hope that he was leaving already. Then, a momentary flash of disappointment left her puzzled at her true feelings in the matter of his presence or absence.

  "I would be beholden to ye if ye would continue to keep these records." He pushed the pile of books closer to her. "'Twould take but a short amount of time each day and I will do all the work involved..."

  "Just the books?" This request pleased her deeply. It would give her something to fill her time, something to focus her thoughts on, something to ease her worries.

  "Aye, just the books. Struan haes asked that I oversee some chores about the grounds and in the village and I can do that if ye'll see to them." Robert placed his hand on the closed account books on the table and stared at her. His eyes were so unique, so unlike anything she'd seen before. He was waiting for her decision, one she'd made the moment his request was clear.

  "Of course, Robert. I can handle keeping the records for you."

  "Good," he said, patting the cover of the record books and standing up next to her. "Ye are much better than I at doing this and 'twill give me a chance to get outside a bit more."

  His impending departure from the room startled her. "Do you mean for me to begin now? This day?" She could see that he chafed at the bit, like a horse recently broken to it. Being cooped up in the castle was obviously not to his taste or style.

  "Aye. Would ye begin this day? If ye have no other pressing business?" He was backing his way out the door already. His actions surprised her and Anice felt the urge to laugh at his boylike anticipation of escaping chores.

  "Aye, Robert. Go, be about your other business. I am willing to do this for you." She stood and waved him out the door.

  "I thank ye, Anice." Robert took several steps towards her and, without warning, placed his hands on her shoulders, lifted her to her feet, a
nd kissed her forehead. And, just as quickly, he turned and left the room.

  The shock struck her within moments, as if the movement of the air caused by his exit had been a fist instead of a slight breeze. A deep gasp tore from her lungs and she waited, waited for the terror and panic to follow.

  But, it did not. Surprise. Complete confusion. But nothing like the anguish she usually felt at the touch of another. Especially a man's touch. Dropping into the chair behind her, Anice pulled a few deep breaths into her lungs. It took more than a few minutes for her racing heart to calm.

  Looking around the room, Anice spied the pile of notes that Robert had left on the desk next to the record books. Numbers and letters in nice orderly rows and columns would help her focus. She pushed the loose hairs that curled around her face away, tucked them behind her ears, and bent over the tabletop. In a short time and with a bit of concentration, she was lost in the duties she'd carried for months before Robert's arrival. She could not tell how much time had passed when she heard Firtha's voice from without.

  "Anice? Are ye here, lass?"

  "Come in, Firtha," she answered. "I am nearly finished my work."

  Firtha entered and, with the raise of one eyebrow, questioned her without words.

  "Robert requested my help, Firtha. He haes other duties that Struan haes assigned and he asked me to keep the records for him." She knew from the softening in her maid's eyes that Firtha could hear the happiness in her voice.

  "And ye have agreed? But of course ye have." Firtha reached over and took Anice's hand, patting it lightly. "Ye have wandered around this drafty place for weeks since he came, with too much time and too little to do except worry."

  "Have I truly been that terrible to bear?" Anice smiled at the concerned look on Firtha's face.

  "Oh, aye. Ye snarl and moan at one and all. Why, even Struan's most feared warriors give a wide berth around ye these days... and it haes little to do with the size of yer belly."

  Anice smiled, even though she could hear a thin bit of truth below Firtha's comments. She had not given up her responsibilities easily; she'd fought hard and worked even harder to earn them and fulfill them after Dougal's illness. Having Struan simply remove her and place Robert in her stead had stung her, threatening to diminish the small amount of pride she still had in herself.